


Whispers in the candlelight

by the_charm_caster



Series: Virtues and Vices [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles should stay away from Erik's mind, Crack, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Moira is a fangirl, Mystique acting like Cas, actually Erik should keep his thoughts away from Charles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:32:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_charm_caster/pseuds/the_charm_caster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little snippers of what happened in the background while the Archangel Charles and Erik, the Prince of Hell, were busy eye-fucking each other.</p><p>Basically codas to the chapters from the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/956052/chapters/1871068">Virtues and Vices</a> 'verse.<br/>(Yep, you gotta read that or else these extra scenes don't make sense.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Coda to chapter 1.  
> Unbeta'd.  
> =D

_“Then, I apologize too, Miss,” Azazel said, vanishing. A second later, he materialized right next to her, “but you’d no longer need these memories then. Emma would be glad to take them away, wont you?” he said coldly._

_Emma nodded, stepping forward._

_Moira stepped back, swallowing hard. This didn’t look good._ _Would she lose all her memories now?_

* * *

“Wait!” Mystique interrupted. Emma stopped her hand in mid-air, and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you think this is a bit too harsh?” The angel asked, coming to Moira’s side. Moira, eyes wide, nodded frantically.

“Yes! Harsh is an understatement,” Moira chimed. “This is totally overkill. In fact, what I think we should do is take some time off, _maybe go to a shrink_ , or have some coffee, if you want. I’ll get chocolate cake and muffins too-”

“Please stop,” Mystique said at the same time as Emma said, “Shut up.” Janos whispered “I want the cake,” in the background.

Emma turned to Mystique. “What do _you_ think we should do, angel?”

“I think I have a better idea,” Mystique said with a smile.

Moira would’ve taken another step away, from Mystique this time, but unfortunately, she was already backed up against the wall.

* * *

 

Moira woke up with the sun on her face. She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

Huh, strange, the sun seemed to be slanting in a different angle. She read the clock, and _oh shit!_ Eleven thirty? She was _damn_ late today. Dead. She was officially dead. Her boss would stab her. Ahuh. Stab her. In the eye, probably.

In a hurry, her legs tangled in her bed sheets, and she fell down the bed.

She blinked, getting up. The strongest wave of déjà vu hit her. Did this happen before? Of course, Moira fell down her bed many times, but it hadn’t happened for almost two weeks now, she was sure of it. They why was her backside aching, as if she had fallen freshly this morning itself?

* * *

 

She crept to the guest bedroom, remembering last night. Maya, if she was right, was still asleep.

Good, that’s good.

She got an unidentified child in her guest bedroom. How the hell was that good?

* * *

 

“Hey Raven!” Moira called her best friend at work, clutching her phone between her ear and shoulder.

“Hello,” Raven replied, voice strangely emotionless. A second later, in the same tone, she said, “You’re not here. Where are you?”

“Oh, right. Yes. I am so sorry! I was um, engaged. But it’s over now! I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Moira said, trying to button up her shirt and comb the dead bird’s nest she called her hair, at the same time. “Can you please fill in boss for me?”

Raven swallowed. “Yes. I will talk to _Miss_ Frost.”

“Thank you! You are such a darling!” Moira finished her buttons. “I would kiss you if I could.”

“My gratitude for the sign of affection, but I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

“Okay, see ya soon!”

“Farewell,” Raven said, and Moira heard the click of her phone.

She threw her mobile on the bed, finishing her hair. If she didn’t know Raven better, she’d have said that Raven’s behavior reminded her of a certain angel from ‘ _Supernatural._ ’  But then again, maybe watching four episodes per day was finally getting to her head.

She turned to the mirror, checking herself.

 _Ugh_ , she sighed as she noticed she had buttoned up in the wrong sequence, and one tail of her shirt was hanging out. She felt like she was three again.

* * *

 

Mystique handed the phone back to Emma.

“I hate doing this,” she said.

“I know,” Emma gave her a pearly smile.

“Why couldn’t you do it?”

“Well, it was your plan, wasn’t it? You wanted her to remember the Illusion, did you not? So you carry the burden,” Emma said smugly, looking out of the window. Moira hurried out, putting on her coat and struggling with the keys at the same time.

“And why do you get to be the boss?” Mystique asked, stepping forward.

“Well, _‘Frost Industries’_ does have a cool ring to it,” Emma shrugged.

Mystique turned away, fuming. At least it wasn’t complete injustice to Moira. She’d remember finding Maya, but that was it. She would not remember her powers, nor the Angels and the Sins. Charles was a telepath. No way someone like Moira would be able to shield her mind. And by… pretending to be her friends, they would get first hand information of what was going on. Humans loved to gossip, Emma had assured.

And this wasn’t exactly lying either, right?

“Plus,” Emma said, turning back to face Mystique. “She thinks you’re acting like Castiel, you know, when he pretends to be human.”

“Cas-who?”

“Nah, nevermind. But he’s hot, so you should be happy.” Emma said with a wink. “You’d totally want to get in his bed, trust me. He’d be your type, you know. His pretty blue eyes and hard-”

Mystique disappeared with the swift flapping of her wings.

 _Angels,_ Emma thought sarcastically. Though Castiel would be an exception, she thought, shaking her head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coda to chapter 5.  
> Really, Charles tried his _best_.

_“Hello, my name is Charles Xavier-” Charles paused._

_“And I am Erik Lehnsherr,” Erik continued._

_“And we’re here to talk about Maya,” Charles finished._

* * *

Charles stood by Erik, waiting, as they explained who they were, and what they wanted with Moira.

Moira MacTaggert, twenty three, was a beautiful young women with soft brunette hair and bright eyes. Though, right now, the brightness was down a notch. Probably because of the Gifted whom she was sheltering. Charles could feel the power even with such a large distance between them.

But looking at them, she started to relax, and what was _that_ in her eyes? She was looking at them as if… as if she wanted to. Well, Charles didn’t want to delve any further.

Charles swallowed, and pretended not to hear the _‘Oh my good God! They are fucking hot!’_ that slipped from her mind, so loudly that Charles was sure any telepath within a few miles would hear clearly.

After seating them in her living room, she rose to get them some drinks. Erik looked around, his nose crinkling in disapproval. How typical of Erik, Charles thought, shaking his head. He then caught a strange whiff in the air.

Something that almost smelled like the flowers in the laurel-crown of an angel. That was strange. Charles was sure no other angel was to come here to collect Maya. They how did the air smell like those specific flowers?

But then he was distracted by Erik’s voice, _in_ his head, and he forgot about the fragrance.

Even though Charles had promised not to look into Erik’s mind, he couldn’t help but listen to Erik’s complaints, about how he hated this realm, and the humans, and their helplessness and _oh my!_ Erik’s list sounded endless.

“The weather’s been acting strange, hasn’t it?” Charles started with the age old ice breaker.

“Oh, I would be the last one to disagree. That storm a few days back?” Moira said, looking at him with _that_ expression again.

Erik was still muttering, loudly, in his mind, and Charles had to purse his lips to stop smiling. Really? Erik found them _smelly_ of all the adjectives out there?

 _‘By the way, her name is Moira, you know, not “smelly creature”,_ Charles whispered to Erik’s mind, when Erik called her by said acronym for what sounded like the fourth time in one minute.

Erik’s eyes widened and he looked at Charles with a betrayed expression. Charles knew he shouldn’t have done that, and he apologized. He promised not to listen to Erik’s mind anymore.

Still, he couldn’t help but listen to the thoughts Erik started _screaming_ in his directions. Charles could shield his mind from random thoughts, but sentences like this, directed at him openly, it was very difficult not to tune them out. And this was _Erik._ Charles’ mind had automatically decided that Erik’s voice was welcome, whenever the Prince wanted. As if Charles’ mind had auto-programmed itself to receive Erik’s thoughts.

 _‘Charles?’_ Erik called.

Charles decided to focus his attention to Moira and her silly conversation about the weather.

“So, Miss MacTaggert, lovely place you’ve got. How are living here all by yourself?” Charles asked, when Erik shouted, _‘Hey, Cha-arles? Can you hear me?’_

“Oh well, actually it’s all because of my friend. You know, I came here four years ago, penniless, contactless, and I thought I’d have to crash on the park bench the first night. But then I walk into my friend and she says that she knows a cheap place, and she brings me here. And I’m like, are you serious?” Moira said, talking animatedly with her hands.

 _‘I will still call this creature a smelly thing,’_ Erik whined.

“Oh please continue,” Charles said. To Moira, of course.

“And then I got a job, salary was low, I have to agree, but that was ages ago. I work at ‘Frost Industries’ now, and even though my boss is strict, she is okay-ish. I guess” Moira smiled, confused. Charles didn’t understand her confusion, though, and that’s when Erik called him again.

‘ _You, the goody-goody one with feathers! Yes you, you look like a pigeon!’_

A pigeon, really? How old was Erik? Five? As if this was provocative enough for Charles’ patience to crack.

“Are you alone here, Miss?” Charles asked Moira. “Oh my, that came out so much more creepy than what I intended. My apologies.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. But I. Well, yes,” Moira smiled, -and blushed- before looking down. “I just. You can say, I can’t find my Mr Right. So, well, here I am,” she smiled again, giving Charles _that_ look again. “Call me old fashioned?”

And that’s when Erik said, ‘ _Charles, you’ve gone fat!’_ and it was Charles’ turn to blush. What in the name of Heaven was that? Charles had not gained extra, thank you very much! He looked alright. Maybe it was Erik who had gone _blind._

But Charles didn’t say it to Erik. Instead he said, “Oh, but you’re very beautiful, Miss MacTaggert. I don’t understand how people can be so _blind._ A little old fashioned is good. _”_

“Oh, Mr Xavier, you flatter me,” Moira blushed again.

Charles hoped Erik would take the hint. But instead, the Prince of Hell said, ‘ _Yeah, yeah, with that ‘apple of the eye’ attitude of yours you could win anyone’s heart, let alone this smelly thing._

‘Oh, but I’m not!” Charles replied, smiling brightly towards Moira. “And call me Charles.”

“Alright, Charles. I’ve told you all about myself. What do you do?”

“I… teach. Yes. I’m a professor,” Charles replied, slightly uncomfortable.

“Which stream, professor?” Moira asked with a coy smile. There was something in the way she said ‘professor’, as if it was a euphemism for something inappropriate.

“Oh, that’s not as interesting. But what spikes my attention is humankind.” Moira’s brows furrowed. “I mean, the genome, you know. Mutations and _Gifts_. That is something I find groovy.”

“Indulge me,” Moira said, looking genuinely interested.

‘ _Borr-ring! Who says ‘groovy’ anymore? C’mon! No one talks like that!’_ Erik interrupted while Charles explained the progression of mankind from single celled sea creatures to the most advanced reproductive organisms. On this planet, whatever. Humankind had always interested him. After all, many of the _Gifted_ were born on Earth itself. But Erik didn’t seem to care about it. He was still trying to test whether Charles was listening in or not.

Of course Charles could listen, if he continued to scream like that. It was as if he was sitting right next to Charles, and talking through a megaphone, right _into_ Charles’ ears.

“Oh, wow!” Moira’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “I wish someone like _you_ taught us biology when we were in school. I wouldn’t have flunked three times, believe me.”

Charles laughed, but he knew that something was wrong with Moira’s sentence.

Then, all of a sudden, Erik’s thoughts became even sillier. And louder.

‘ _You look like a homeless with that stupid haircut!’_

He did not!

_‘And you have no sense of fashion.’_

Where did that come from!?

_‘Really, whats up with that oversized sweater?’_

Really Erik, really.

_‘And those shoes, really, ew! They are disgraceful!’_

Alright.

No one said anything wrong about Charles’ shoes. No one. Ever. His shoes were not disgraceful. Fine, they might not be as classy as Erik’s, but Charles knew he had a satisfactory sense of fashion which Erik was degrading like the waning moon. His hair was _fine_ and the sweater was _not_ oversized… much. This was too much! Erik had positively pushed the last straw by complaining about his shoes. And really, what was Erik doing? Testing his patience? Checking his word, whether Charles kept his promise or not?

Charles was about to say something about Erik’s socks, when Erik whispered in a small voice, ‘ _Hey. I really want to kiss you hard. Among other things.’_

His eyes immediately flicked towards Erik’s. What was _that_?

His mind registered Moira asking about Erik and his grumpiness, but Charles didn’t –couldn’t pay attention to her. What had Erik just confessed? Was it the truth? Did Erik really want to –Charles blushed again, but this time it had nothing to do with the insults.

Erik looked panicked, as if –as if someone had just caught his lie. Of course. He was lying. Testing Charles. And by looking at him, Charles had failed the test; he had failed to keep his word.

“Yes… this is Erik, my partner… actually, he doesn’t like to speak much, but I think you’re right,” Charles turned to Moira. “He is sort of scary.”

“So, how are you two related to Maya?” Moira had already explained how she found Maya in the alley. But this question was directed towards Erik who, Charles was sure, hadn’t listened to a single word of the story Charles had fabricated.

“You two!” came the shrill voice of a young girl, and everything went downhill after that.

                                                                                                                                          


End file.
